


They Had Eternity

by QueridaMyDear



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is determined to make Crowley happy, Crowley has a nightmare and Aziraphale cuddles it away, Crowley won't let himself be happy, Did I mention the fluff, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Incredible Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Canon, angst in flashbacks, blink and you'll miss the kiss, crowley is pining even after moving in with aziraphale, domestic ineffable husbands, i told you there was fluff, set up a dentist appointment before you read this because it's so sweet it's going to rot your teeth, wildly domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-22 08:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19663990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueridaMyDear/pseuds/QueridaMyDear
Summary: Crowley moves in with Aziraphale and reflects on how long he used to have to wait to see him. And now he gets to see him every day.





	1. They Had Eternity

There used to be a time when hundreds of years went by in between the moments when Crowley and Aziraphale happened to run into each other. Occasionally a thousand years or more would go by. 

Reflecting on those run ins now, Crowley recalled how often he’d thought about them in his darkest, loneliest moments, calling on his memories of Aziraphale’s pale curly hair and his sunny smile and the joy in his voice when he called Crowley’s name. Strictly speaking, demons weren’t supposed to really enjoy things that could be described as ‘sunny’, as it implied a certain amount of happiness that wasn’t generally associated with the demonic. But in between the hundreds of years that went by since the last time Crowley had seen him, the memories kept him going, eager for the next run in and the next time Aziraphale would smile and call his name.

And now, following eleven years of raising the wrong antichrist child and one extremely stressful week leading up to the potential end of the world, one newly unnecessary offer from Crowley to Aziraphale to live with him after the angel’s formerly burnt-down bookshop became un-burnt, and the same offer from Aziraphale to Crowley after the apocalypse had been stopped, Crowley was standing in the doorway of Aziraphale’s flat over the bookshop. He had never dared dream that one day he would get to walk into Aziraphale’s home and call it his own as well. Their flat. Their shared space. Their home.

During the eleven years of raising the wrong child together, Crowley had come to learn a great deal about Aziraphale that he hadn’t known before. Their run ins throughout time had always been so brief, lest they catch the attention of their respective superiors. He’d come to learn about little quirks he had, like the way he always sniffed his tea before drinking it, the way he very carefully folded the wrappers and bags his chips and sandwiches came in after he was finished eating, and the way he would start to giggle uncontrollably when someone said something very funny, his voice getting quieter and softer even as he still heaved with laughter, losing his breath until he’d gone silent, and finally took in a great deep breath, his face still red from laughter, eyes sparkling. It had taken all of Crowley’s willpower to not kiss him then and there, and feel the heat of Aziraphale’s laughter-flushed face in the palms of his hands. He had longed for it, but held back. And then they saved the world (debatable) and put the fear of hellfire and holy water into their peers, protecting themselves from their peering eyes, allowing them, for once, to be alone together. 

Crowley had always thought he might make the first move, hoping Aziraphale felt the same, but then that same night after the world had been saved (not by them though) they had stood in the doorway of the bookshop, Crowley preparing to say good night and part ways so he could plan his grand seduction for some later day (when? Some later day.), when Aziraphale made the first move, grabbing the front of Crowley’s suit jacket in both hands to pull him close and kiss him, pouring 6000 years of adoration into one breathless moment that left both their heads spinning, hearts pounding, thoughts racing, chests heaving, hands shaking.

“I do think it’s high time you moved in.” Aziraphale had said afterward, releasing Crowley’s shirt and trying to smooth out the fabric where he’d wrinkled it. “You’ll have to move in here though. I’ve been to your place, there’s no room for my books.”

“...’Kay.” It was all Crowley _could_ say.

So he’d gathered his things and here he was, the following morning, one day after the apocalypse, moving into Aziraphale’s little flat. He had been here before for tea or a meal, but it had been different then, when he wasn’t staying. Now that he lived here too, nothing was the same. Everything was warmer, more inviting, completely not his style in the least but… He didn’t mind being surrounded by things that reminded him of his angel.

Aziraphale bustled around, miracling things slightly different to accommodate another living in the flat. A slightly larger couch, more chairs at the dining table, more counter space in the kitchen, a larger bed in the bedroom. The reality that he would sleep in the same bed as his angel and wake up to him was sinking in, bit by bit

Crowley continued to examine everything while Aziraphale made sure everything was perfect. There were little things here and there that were so clearly little customizations Aziraphale had made, it almost made Crowley laugh. It also made his heart ache with a dear fondness, happy that his relationship with the angel was so close, so intimate, he knew why things were set up the way they were. There were large windows by the small dining table, larger windows than any flat in the area had. Aziraphale was forever people watching whenever they ate out together, always amazed by the magnificent variation in the shapes and sizes and appearances of humans and the clothes they wore, the ways they spoke, the ways they carried themselves. From these windows, he could watch people go by on the street as they started their day, admiring them in all their splendid differences.

The bathroom was tiny but housed an impressive cast iron clawfoot tub. Crowley leaned against the doorframe, looking into the empty tub and imagining his angel enjoying a bath in this tub, surrounded by suds and the luxurious foam of one of the bath bombs sitting in an elegant pyramid inside a basket on the back of the toilet. Beside the tub sat another window, not quite so large as the ceiling to floor windows in the kitchen, but large enough to see through while laying back in the tub, watching clouds go by and letting the sun and a breeze come in.

The living room contained more built -ins than Crowley had ever seen in a home. He had helped Aziraphale carry the overflow upstairs from the store one day and helped him shelf the books, pausing mid-task when he overheard Aziraphale talking to the books, petting them, and happily telling them that now they had a shelf to live on and didn’t have to sit piled under each other on the floor in the shop. The moment had made Crowley’s heart beat in an extremely fond and decidedly undemonic manner, and recalling the wonderful little moment and the affectionate teasing that had followed was making his heart pound again. 

Crowley couldn’t wait to spend every day of the rest of existence with Aziraphale, watching him talk to books and giggle until he couldn’t breathe and lounge in the tub as the sun warmed his face. Soon he would learn what it was like to wake up with Aziraphale’s face buried in his chest or wrapped up in Aziraphale’s arms, and how it would feel when his curls tickled Crowley’s nose as he leaned over to kiss him.

The thought of ever having to go hundreds of years before seeing him again was unbearably painful and left Crowley feeling empty and aching and cold. The few times they had been together from the moment they met standing on top of the wall protecting Eden until Crowley first approached Aziraphale to help him stop the Apocalypse added up to a total of several hours. Several hours he’d held in his heart for thousands of years, several hours he kept thinking back on over and over again until the next time he saw his angel’s smiling face.

And now? They had eternity.


	2. The First Morning - Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first morning after Crowley moves in, Aziraphale wakes up to Crowley having a nightmare, but he won't share what happened.

Aziraphale awoke slowly to the sun on his face as the early morning light shone in on the quiet little bedroom. He wasn’t even entirely sure when he’d fallen asleep or how he’d done it. He didn’t usually sleep so he was frightfully out of practice and had worried about the mechanics of falling asleep and whether or not it was manual or automatic. All he remembered was the warmth of the bed, the weight of the blankets on top of him, and Crowley’s limbs tangled in his, bringing with them a weightless feeling of calm and comfort… And then he woke up.

As he blinked awake and slowly returned to consciousness (this groggy feeling was absolutely his least favorite part), he became aware of Crowley’s arms and legs, still wrapped around him like a snake. Crowley’s face was tucked into his chest, his grip on Aziraphale tight and desperate, scared. Crowley had mentioned dreams before, nightmares mainly, mostly about his fall, about being left alone. Had he had a nightmare? It hurt to think there were things Aziraphale couldn’t protect Crowley from, but there was very little he could do about the thoughts and memories that haunted Crowley. 

He had little romantic notions that perhaps he could kiss them away, or hold Crowley’s hand and let him know he was there, and act as the sun on a rainy day and chase those dark thoughts from his head. He knew it didn’t work like that though. He could kiss Crowley and hold his hand, but the thoughts and memories remained in spite of the distraction Aziraphale provided. But there was that, at least. He couldn’t pull the darkness from his demon’s head, but he could distract him.

Aziraphale sank deeper into the blankets, Crowley, still asleep, sliding with him. He wrapped his demon up tightly in his arms, wanting desperately to protect him from his dreams. He pressed soft kisses to the top of Crowley’s head, brushing his hair away from his forehead as Crowley’s breath quickened, his arms struggling as though pulling away from whatever unseen thing lurked in his dreams.

“Aziraphale-” Crowley woke with a start, eyes wide, heart fast, breathing hard in Aziraphale’s arms. Aziraphale smiled at him, petting Crowley’s face with the back of his hand. Crowley looked at him with such relief it hurt Aziraphale to think of what he’d been dreaming.

“Morning, angel.” He had submerged his face partway into the pillow and it was hard to understand him, but that was what Aziraphale thought he’d said.

“Good morning, my demon.” He felt Crowley tremble a little, curl into him tighter upon hearing the pet name. “Did you… Dream? What was it about?”

He felt Crowley’s steady breathing, his grip on Aziraphale tightening, limbs shaking a little, but no answer came. That was alright though. Maybe someday Crowley would tell him. He could wait.

“That’s alright, dear one. You’ll say when you’re ready.” He kissed the top of Crowley’s head, a smile spreading as he felt Crowley leaning into his touch. “Let me get you some tea.”

There was audible whining and a clear pout on Crowley’s face as Aziraphale tried to get up, but he relented and let him go. Aziraphale headed into the kitchen and filled the kettle, setting it onto the stove to boil. He sighed deeply, wondering to himself for a moment why in the world Crowley even liked to sleep if he had nightmares. But, he admitted, he had loved waking up to his demon tucked into him and wrapped around him, his breath warm on Aziraphale’s chest. He’d never really had the chance to sleep in the same bed as another before, and wake up to their warmth and presence beside him. He’d always thought it sounded nice, though. 

“Oh, let’s see, what cups to use…” He picked out some cups from his collection of teacups and saucers and fussed over which ones to use. Crowley didn’t like any of his cups, they were too fussy for his tastes. But Aziraphale picked out his own personal favorite for Crowley to use anyway. Even if he was having a bad morning, this was still unspeakably important and precious to him. Their first morning living together. The first of many. He was looking forward to holding his sleepy demon in his arms every morning while he kissed him awake and finding how exactly how grumpy he was in the morning. Crowley was a moderate level of grumpy at all times, and Aziraphale imagined he was even grumpier in the morning. Today didn’t count for measuring grumpiness, he’d had a bad dream. Of course he was grumpy. Hopefully some tea would fix it.

“Here we are!” Aziraphale returned to the bedroom with his two cups of tea, handing one off to Crowley and setting his own aside so he could crawl back into bed beside him. Once he’d arranged the blankets just so on his lap, he picked his tea up again and gently sniffed it, smiling delightedly as the floral notes rose up through the steam, finishing with a warm, woody scent. He tried a sip and frowned, quickly removing the cup from his lips. “That’s far too hot, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale put his tea back down and watched Crowley mime him, setting his tea down before flopping back onto the pillows. Aziraphale sat quietly beside Crowley, reading the unspoken and unexpressed emotions flicking across his unflinching, unmoving, unblinking upward stare. He knew Crowley held some permanent sadness in his heart, something Aziraphale could never fully erase. He knew Crowley still felt pain over his Fall, and maybe someday he’d discuss that in detail with Aziraphale too, along with his nightmares. All Aziraphale wanted was to have Crowley at his side, sad as he was, fallen, with his snake eyes and his black wings and his penchant for mayhem and his nightmares that woke him up shaking. But he wasn’t sure if Crowley knew that. Aziraphale loved him as he was. 

He reached over and set a hand over Crowley’s, smiling as his demon’s fingers instinctively curled over his own, turning his head to focus on Aziraphale. He squeezed Crowley’s hand tightly and lay on his side, facing him.

“I want you to know how… How very happy I am that you’re here.” He pulled Crowley’s hand to his lips and trailed them over his knuckles, kissing the bumps of his bones. Crowley’s blank face now had a shade of incredulity over it, so he gleefully continued.

“You are?” His voice was so small, so scared, so surprised. Aziraphale pouted, saddened that Crowley would think he was anything but overjoyed to have him as a much more permanent fixture in his life.

“Of course I am!” The indignity of an offhanded accusation that he’d done this on a whim or that he might change his mind! “I’ve… I daydreamed about this, if I’m being perfectly honest.” His heart was thrumming wildly in his chest. He’d often wanted to admit to Crowley that he wanted him around all the time, that he’d planned out how he would expand the flat for Crowley’s additional residency years ago. He’d known exactly how he would do it, which was why it had taken so little time to fix the place up just right.

“You… You have?” 

“Why, yes!” Aziraphale tried to get his daydreams in order, trying to recall perhaps the least embarrassing and indulgent of them. Someday he might tell Crowley about the daydream where they were picnicking in a lovely sunny park and Crowley fed him (bits of cheese and grapes) and petted his hair with his head resting in Crowley’s lap, but right now that was far too embarrassing. “They’re all silly, simply little things, but they made me happy to think about. Like… Oh, like I would be in the shop, reading, and you would come downstairs with tea for me. I’ve never had tea made by you before, so I’m unsure if you can make tea at all-”

“I can make tea!” A bit of teasing and there he was, there was his darling, starting to sound like himself again. A little indignant, defensive, but in a familiar, playful way.

“You’ll have to prove it by making some for me! But in the daydream it’s terrible, either too bitter or too weak, but I love it all the same because you made it for me.” Aziraphale brought Crowley’s hand to his lips, lightly kissing his bony knuckles. It was almost still hard for him to believe that now he’d be able to see Crowley whenever he wanted, kiss him when he wanted, hold him when he wanted…

“I’ve… I’ve dreamed about things like that too.” Oh. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat.

“Like what?” Whatever it was Crowley had thought about and longed for, Aziraphale wanted to make it happen!

“Just yesterday when I arrived I was thinking about things like that. Like watching you bathe in that big tub. Watching you enjoy yourself with the sun on your face.” 

Aziraphale paused, surprised by Crowley’s confession. That was what he daydreamed about? Just… Watching him? Not being with him? Not kissing him? Aziraphale’s daydreams all involved himself and Crowley interacting, playing with each other, teasing, kissing, making love. All of it, together. It almost broke his heart to hear Crowley daydream about just watching him, rather than including himself in the bath. But then he considered how desperate Crowley had sounded when Aziraphale had told him, definitively, he was happy to have him here. He didn’t include himself in the daydream because he hadn’t been certain he was staying for good. He didn’t make room in his own daydreams to allow himself to be happy.

“That’s… That’s lovely, but you know, I much prefer the daydreams that include both of us.” He spoke softly. Aziraphale already rather liked the sound of that daydream and hoped to make it a reality that very day, with both of them in the tub, Aziraphale laying against the back of the tub, his demon laying against his chest with the warm water surrounding them both, a bath bomb fizzing away at their feet, both of them happy and enjoying the warm sun through the window.

“I like daydreams where we’re together. Where we’re both happy. It sounds like you’re daydreaming of me being happy, which is nice. But in my daydreams, you’re happy too. With me.” Aziraphale smiled serenely at his demon, petting his fluffy bedhead away from his face, stroking the sides of Crowley’s face with his fingers. He could feel his demon trembling in response to his words, and Aziraphale decided that from now on he would need to remind Crowley that he wanted him here, that he’d longed for this, over and over until Crowley believed it. They’d waited 6000 years to get to this point, and Aziraphale could spend another 6000 telling Crowley there was nothing he wanted more than this, right now, the two of them in their bed, in their flat, holding each other.

He felt Crowley snake his arms tighter around his waist, his face buried in Aziraphale’s stomach as he mumbled something that sounded like an admission of love. He smiled, his heart warming. He would never get tired of hearing that, not after waiting so long to hear it.

“I love you too, Crowley.”


	3. The First Morning - Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first morning after Crowley moves in, Crowley wakes up from a nightmare. He's too scared to tell Aziraphale what happened. Same as last chapter, but from Crowley's POV.

_“I don’t associate with the fallen.”_

_“No, angel, no, please- please, don’t leave me!” Crowley cried, on his knees as his arms were held back by faceless demons, other fallen, who hissed at Aziraphale’s presence and whispered foul words at him, wanting him gone. He struggled, trying to free himself from their grasp, but there were too many, they were too strong. He was trapped, watching his angel look down on him, the only light in the black of this nightmare._

_“Are those your thoughts too, Crowley? They’re fallen, you’re fallen. Why would you even want me around? I’m an angel. You’re a demon. This isn’t meant to be. This can’t be. Maybe you can disappoint God, but I can’t. I won’t. Goodbye, Crowley.”_

_“ANGEL! AZIRAPHALE!” He screamed, screamed and cried as Aziraphale gave him one last pitying, repulsed look, and turned his winged back on Crowley, walking away from him into an endless darkness, the light going with him as the cries and voices of the fallen that held him tight grew louder with the growing darkness until he couldn’t see, and all he could hear, all he could feel, were the triumphant shrieks of the fallen and their clawed hands holding him down in the dark where he belonged._

“Aziraphale-” Crowley woke with a start, eyes wide, heart fast, breathing hard in Aziraphale’s arms. He was still scared, still alert, still aware of the feel of the rough, scabby hands of the fallen holding him down. He calmed as he looked around and saw the bedroom in his and Aziraphale’s flat, saw Aziraphale smiling down at him, his face tender and loving, not repulsed and resigned as it had been in his dream.

Crowley sighed deeply and let himself fall weightless back into the pillows and blankets, eyes still open for fear of the darkness that had swallowed him in his dreams. He wanted to see Aziraphale still there, still smiling at him, letting the brightness of his nearness chase away the receding feeling of the fallen on his skin.

“Morning, angel.” He sighed, voice half muffled by his pillow, winding an arm tighter around Aziraphale to feel his warmth and softness against himself.

“Good morning, my demon.” Aziraphale spoke softly. The pet name gave Crowley a little shiver, feeling the love in Aziraphale’s voice crawl over him and wrap him up, safe. “Did you… Dream? What was it about?”

Crowley felt his voice leave him, terror striking his heart. Flashes of the nightmare came back to him, Aziraphale’s face, his back as he walked away, the dark growing deeper and more suffocating as he took the light with him, the fallen shrieking in his ears. He couldn’t put a voice to the visions in his head and he didn’t want to. Not when he’d just woken up to the safety and warmth of Aziraphale’s smile. He couldn’t revisit the nightmare so soon. He tucked his face back into Aziraphale’s chest instead, hoping to tell him without words that he couldn’t say it. He was a demon, yes. But demons could feel fear, and nothing scared him more than the thought of his angel leaving him.

“That’s alright, dear one. You’ll say when you’re ready.” His heart warmed, feeling Aziraphale lean in to kiss the top of his head. “Let me get you some tea.”

Crowley was reluctant to release Aziraphale, but the promise of tea won him over. He made the grave mistake of watching Aziraphale walk out of the room, his nightmare coming back to him, seeing his angel leaving him on his own. He shivered and trembled alone in the bed, hugging Aziraphale’s pillow into his chest, reminding himself it was just a dream. A horrible, horrible dream, but just a dream. He couldn’t stop the tears from pricking at his eyes, his heart seized with the terror he’d felt in his dream, his angel’s voice ringing in his sleepy memory _“This isn’t meant to be. This can’t be. Goodbye, Crowley.”_

He swallowed back his urge to call out for his angel and forced himself instead to listen to the sounds of Aziraphale bustling around the kitchen, filling the kettle and flicking it on to boil, and digging through the cupboards filled with an absolutely ludicrous amount of teacups and matching plates. Crowley managed to settle down, recalling the first time he’d opened the cupboards and came face to face with hundreds of teacups and plates and very little other by way of plates and bowls. He remembered the sheepish look on Aziraphale’s face and the little measured shrug he’d given to try to make Crowley believe he was indifferent to his opinion on his teacup collection, which Crowley had called ‘an inappropriate number for one being’.

Crowley felt his breathing slow, his grip on Aziraphale’s pillow loosen. From the kitchen he heard Aziraphale humming some pop song that was playing everywhere recently. He didn’t quite know the correct words but substituted other words with the same amount of syllables to fill in the gaps. The result was both aggravating to Crowley and absolutely adorable.

“Here we are!” Aziraphale came hurrying back into the bedroom, expertly carrying two cups of tea on saucers. He handed one to Crowley, who sat up with all the energy and enthusiasm of someone bed bound with an ongoing illness, and carefully accepted the tea. Aziraphale set his own tea on the table next to the bed and got back under the covers, then took hold of his tea again, carefully sniffing it with a pleased smile before he delicately sipped it and crinkled his nose in displeasure. “That’s far too hot, isn’t it?” 

Aziraphale set his tea aside. Crowley looked down at his own and gave it a sniff. It just smelled like tea to him. He put it down since it was too hot and collapsed back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling. He’d hoped their first morning would be more… Well, happy. Maybe cutesy and romantic with good morning snuggles, something out of a movie. Instead Crowley woke up feeling as though he’d been trampled and he couldn’t even tell Aziraphale why and he knew Aziraphale was aching to know why. 

Crowley laid there, wide eyes staring unblinking at the ceiling as his heart and thoughts raced, asking himself why he couldn’t just tell Aziraphale, he’d known him for literally thousands of years, they had stood side by side watching the beginnings of humanity banished from the Garden, rain splattering their wings, they’d experienced great moments in history together, they’d created some of those great moments, and after all this, all they’d shared, he couldn’t bring himself to confide his nightmares, his greatest fears to Aziraphale.

A hand in his distracted him from his cycle of destructive thoughts and he held it tightly, clinging to Aziraphale’s hand as though it was all that was keeping him together as he turned, looking on his angel’s dear, familiar face. Civilizations had come and gone, human friends had lived and died, but his angel stayed the same, stayed at his side, forever smiling, forever happy to see him. And all Crowley had ever wanted was to be at Aziraphale’s side. 

“I want you to know how… How very happy I am that you’re here.” 

Crowley just stared, incredulous, unbelieving of the words he was hearing. Had Aziraphale somehow heard his thoughts since his heart and brain were screaming them so loud? How did he know exactly what Crowley needed to hear at that moment?

“You are?” He croaked, voice small, scared, pleading with Aziraphale to let him stay.

“Of course I am! I’ve… I daydreamed about this, if I’m being perfectly honest.” Crowley watched his angel’s cheeks go pink over the admission.

“You… You have?” Crowley’s heart ached, not in pain over his dreams but with love for this angel, his angel, whom he loved so much and had always loved, ever since that first meeting on the gate when Aziraphale had risked the wrath of God to protect the first humans.

“Why, yes!” Aziraphale perked up a little, his little smile and joyous giggle warming Crowley, replacing his fears and his dreams with _Aziraphale, Aziraphale, Aziraphale,_ light of his life, love of his life. “They’re all silly, simply little things, but they made me happy to think about. Like… Oh, like I would be in the shop, reading, and you would come downstairs with tea for me. I’ve never had tea made by you before, so I’m unsure if you can make tea at all-”

“I can make tea!” Crowley defended himself with an expression that suggested offense, but he wasn’t offended. He was awful at making tea. 

“You’ll have to prove it by making some for me! But in the daydream it’s terrible, either too bitter or too weak, but I love it all the same because you made it for me.” Aziraphale was beaming, his lips grazing Crowley’s knuckles as he shared his daydreams and Crowley just gazed at him, recalling every similar daydream he’d had where he and his angel didn’t have to do anyone’s bidding and could just live together. 

“I’ve… I’ve dreamed about things like that too.” Crowley admitted, slithering closer to Aziraphale under the blankets, laying his head on his angel’s lap and closing his weary eyes. 

“Like what?” Crowley felt Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair, lovingly tracing the snake tattoo by his ear. Crowley had never felt warmer or safer than he did now, petted by his angel who watched over him.

“Just yesterday when I arrived I was thinking about things like that. Like watching you bathe in that big tub. Watching you enjoy yourself with the sun on your face.” He would never tire of looking at his angel, or of watching him enjoy the numerous incredible things humans had created.

“That’s… That’s lovely, but you know, I much prefer the daydreams that include both of us.” Crowley froze, feeling as though Aziraphale had just punched him right in the gut. He realized, almost guiltily, that his daydreams never included himself being happy with Aziraphale or being happy at all. They were always about watching Aziraphale being happy on his own, without Crowley. As if he felt he didn’t deserve to be at Aziraphale’s, side sharing in that happiness, despite the fact Aziraphale was trying to make it clear to Crowley that was exactly what he wanted. He’d plead with Aziraphale to run away with him, leave the planet, leave the galaxy, so they could be together, but now that he’d gotten his wish he was shying away from allowing himself to even enjoy it.

“I like daydreams where we’re together. Where we’re both happy. It sounds like you’re daydreaming of me being happy, which is nice. But in my daydreams, you’re happy too. With me.” Crowley shivered, feeling Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair and his words trying to fight away his doubt. Aziraphale wanted this. Crowley wanted this. He had to allow himself to enjoy this. He’d woken up feeling so cold and empty and terrified but now all he felt was the warmth of Aziraphale’s love and happiness as he wound his arms tighter around his angel’s waist, snuggling his face closer into his lap.

“I love you.” Crowley thought he said, but his words were muffled by Aziraphale’s nightshirt. But Aziraphale understood, petting Crowley’s hair and over the back of his neck.

“I love you too, Crowley.”


End file.
